Fall and Rise
by WinterSky101
Summary: Loki falls, and falls, and falls, and then he lands on Sakaar. Missing scenes from Thor: Ragnarok.


**Any dialogue you recognize comes directly from _Thor: Ragnarok_. Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts, particularly in the italicized section but also in a few other parts of the fic.**

* * *

Loki feels the magic before he sees any sign of it. Something is twisting itself around him, and for a moment, he's amused by it. Midgardian magic is so quaint. It builds itself up, growing and growing, and some of his amusement fades. This is stronger than the Midgardian magic he's encountered in the past.

"What's this? What- What are you doing?" Thor demands as red sparks begin to circle around Loki's feet.

"This isn't me," Loki says, and he starts gathering his seidr to fight this opposing magic when the ground disappears beneath him and he falls.

His grip on his seidr slips as mind-numbing panic slams into his chest. He's falling he's falling he'sfallinghe'sfallinghe'sfalling this is not the Void but there is nothing here he's falling he's falling-

Loki tries to breathe, to gather his seidr to break out of this trap - surely it can't be too hard to break out of; it _is_ Midgardian magic, after all - but he needs to focus to work magic, and he can't focus here. It's not quite like the Void, he reminds himself. He has sensation here, even if he's falling in nothingness. He can feel his body, he can hear his ragged breathing, if he pinches himself he feels the pain. In the Void, there was no sound, no feeling, no nothing, but he's not there, not anymore, he got out and he's never going back.

He does his best to keep track of time as he falls. Once he gets out of here, he's going to torture this Midgardian sorcerer for as long as he's been falling. Of course, to do that, he needs to focus enough to get out of here, but he can't quite manage it. No matter how hard he tries to stop it, panic worms its way into his mind and grips it just tightly enough that he can't think straight enough to act. He needs to calm down, he needs to focus, he needs to _get out of here_ …

Suddenly, he sees a red ring, just like the one he fell through before. Gravity has a sudden pull on him, and he cries out as he falls through the portal and into a room, hitting the floor hard. He's not alone in the room, and he pushes all panic aside and plasters on a façade of anger instead. It's not too hard.

"I have been falling for _thirty minutes_!"

"You can handle him from here," an unfamiliar voice says.

"Yes, of course," Thor agrees. "Thank you very much for your help."

"Good luck," the other man says. Loki can feel magic clinging to him. This is the sorcerer who trapped him in the spell, and suddenly the anger isn't a façade at all.

"Handle me? Who are you?" He flicks his wrists and summons his knives. He'll make this sorcerer pay for every _second_ that he fell.

"Loki," Thor warns.

"You think you're some kind of sorcerer?" Loki demands, ignoring his brother entirely. "Don't think for one minute, you second rate-"

"Alright, buh-bye," the sorcerer says, and just as Loki is about to lunge forward, another red portal engulfs him and Thor, and Loki falls to the ground on a grassy cliff. He rolls over, furious that he's been cheated of his revenge, and then he sees Odin standing by the cliff's edge.

It feels almost like he's falling again.

Thor walks up to Odin and Loki cautiously follows. This is Thor's quest, not his. The only reason he came with Thor to find Odin is because he hid him in the first place. Loki would be just as happy to never see Odin again.

And yet, some pull leads him to stand at Odin's side.

"Father, it's us," Thor says.

"My sons," Odin says, and Loki is hit with a sensation that feels almost like guilt. "I've been waiting for you."

"I know," Thor says, "we've come to take you home."

But Loki doesn't think that's quite what Odin means.

"Home, yes," Odin says, but he sounds distracted. "Your mother, she calls me. Do you hear it?"

Loki doesn't, but he wishes he did. What would Frigga say if she could see him now, he wonders?

"Loki, lift your magic," Thor demands, but Loki just shakes his head. This has nothing to do with him. Odin is old, and he's been deteriorating slowly for quite some time. Loki's spell may have rushed that a bit, but it's broken now. The Odin they see before them is real.

Odin laughs. "It took me quite a while to break free from your spell," he tells Loki. "Frigga would have been proud."

The feeling of falling rushes in again, and even though Loki's feet are steady on the ground, the sudden grief makes him feel like he's tumbling through the Void. His pain when he lost his mother knew no bounds. He hadn't thought he would feel anything when he lost his father, but now that it seems immanent, he's surprised at how much it hurts.

"Come, sit with me," Odin says. "I don't have much time."

They sit on the rock, Odin turned slightly towards Thor. It's as it should be. Loki isn't truly part of this family, he is an outsider to this, and he sits slightly apart out of respect for that fact. "I know we failed you, but we can make this right," Thor says, as if he failed anyone. If anyone failed Odin, it was Loki, but Odin failed him first.

"No, I failed you," Odin says, and Loki should feel vindicated upon hearing it, but it just hurts. "It is upon us. Ragnarok."

Is that why Odin thinks he failed them? Because the end of days is approaching? A part of Loki wants to know what this is an apology for, if Odin is acknowledging how much he failed them in childhood or only how much he failed them now, but Thor speaks before Loki can find the words.

"No, I stopped Ragnarok, I put an end to Surtur."

"No," Odin says. "It's already begun. She's coming. My life was all that held her back, but my time has come."

Thor shoots Loki a look, but Loki's silver tongue has failed him, and he has no idea what to say.

"I cannot keep her away any longer."

"Father, who are you talking about?" Thor asks.

"The Goddess of Death," Odin replies, sounding remarkably blasé. "Hela. My firstborn. Your sister."

Odin speaks so calmly, as if he has no idea of the impact his words have. Their _sister_? Loki had thought the secret of his parentage was the worst lie Odin told, but now to know they have a sister, one Odin never spoke of?

"What?" Thor asks, sounding rattled. He looks up at Loki with desperation in his eyes, and Loki knows he's waiting for the moment when this is revealed to just be another prank, albeit a twisted one. Thor wants Loki to yell _"surprise!"_ and take the spell away from Odin, at which point Odin will come to his senses, be returned to his full splendor, and go back home to Asgard. A part of Loki longs for that too, but he has no spell on Odin anymore. This is not his doing.

"Her violent appetites grew beyond my control," Odin says. "I couldn't stop her, so I imprisoned her. Locked her away."

The story sounds sickeningly familiar. So Loki is not the first child Odin failed. At least, a vindictive part of him assures him, it seems he will be the last.

"She draws her strength from Asgard," Odin continues, "and once she gets there, her powers will be limitless."

"Whatever she is, we- we can stop her together, we can face her together," Thor says desperately.

Odin interrupts him with a gentle, "No, we won't. I'm on a different path now. This, you must face alone."

Loki was wrong, Odin is failing them again. How could he _do_ this-

"I love you, my sons," Odin says, and Loki hates that a part of him is warmed with the sentiment. This changes _nothing_ , it doesn't erase all that Odin has done, he's furious with him, he has to hold on to his anger because otherwise his grief will pull him into a free fall from which he doesn't think he'll ever land.

"Look at that," Odin says, pointing out towards the sea. "Remember this place," he tells them, and Loki is certain they'll never be able to forget it. "Home."

And then Odin begins to glow, and both Loki and Thor stand as he dissolves into a golden dust that dissipates over the water.

The sky grows dark and clouds gather. Thor's fury is electric in the air, and a part of Loki knows he deserves it, but he also knows that much of it is misplaced. "Brother," he begins, wondering what he can possibly say to make this better. There is nothing. Thor has never been one for talking. Loki will not be able to stop him with words. Thor is grieving, and when Thor grieves, the whole world knows it.

"This was your doing," Thor growls, and Loki slowly moves into a fighting stance. He doesn't stand a chance against Thor, he never has, but he'll go down fighting.

A sickly green glow from behind them distracts Thor from his desired vengeance. Loki can feel dark magic seeping out from the portal as he turns to face it. He and Thor share a look, and although Loki's certain this isn't over, they both know they need to have a temporary truce. Loki calls his armor back, and Thor slams his umbrella into the ground to return it to its original form.

The green and black coalesce into a figure that steps out, malice in every line of her body. "So he's gone," Hela says as the portal closes behind her. There's a pause, and then, "That's a shame. I would have liked to have seen that."

"You must be Hela," Thor says. "I'm Thor, son of Odin."

"Really? You don't look like him."

"Perhaps we can come to an arrangement," Loki offers.

"You sound like him," Hela says. She clearly means it as an insult, and Loki wants to take it as one, but part of him is almost honored by the comparison.

Hela's lips twitch into a slight smile. "Kneel."

"Beg your pardon?" Loki asks.

Hela holds out a hand, and a sword slides into it. It reminds Loki of how he summons his knives, and he feels a sick twisting in his stomach at how much he seems to resemble Odin's true warmongering firstborn.

"Kneel," she repeats, letting the word sink in, "before your queen."

"I don't think so," Thor replies, and he throws Mjolnir. Of course he does, Thor always solves his problems with Mjolnir, and although Loki would have probably started this fight in a more subtle manner, he agrees that fighting is the only way this is going to end.

And then Hela _catches_ the hammer.

"It's not possible," Thor says, his voice sounding strained.

"Darling," Hela says, sounding almost amused, "you have no idea what's possible."

And Mjolnir explodes.

The shock wave bursts out and Loki throws an arm over his face to protect himself from it. When the dust settles, Mjolnir is in pieces on the ground and Hela is wearing a spiked helmet and holding a long, wicked-looking sword in each hand. She stalks towards them, and Loki knows this is not a fight they can win.

"Bring us back!"

"No!" Thor cries, but the Bifrost envelops them almost before he finishes the word. It pulls them up, and for a moment Loki thinks they're safe, then Thor yells his name and Loki looks down to see that Hela is below them, rising steadily. Loki summons a knife and hurls it at her, but Hela catches the knife and throws it back. There's not enough space to dodge, and the blade makes contact, hitting Loki hard enough in the side to send him spinning out of control, out of the Bifrost's light-

And then Loki is back in the Void.

* * *

 _there is nothing in the void there is no sound there is no sight there is no feeling_

 _he thinks he is screaming but he cannot hear it_

 _he knows there is a knife embedded in his side but he cannot feel the pain or the knife or his body at all_

 _he's sure that his heart is pounding but he can feel nothing_

 _he cannot be back here he cannot survive it again he cannot he cannot he cannot he cannot_

 _he wants to die he wants to die he wants to die_

 _he wonders if he can take the knife from his side and use it to slit his throat he wonders if it'll be enough to kill him he wonders if he can even do it without being able to feel the knife or his hand or his neck_

 _he doesn't know if he'll ever land or if he'll fall for the rest of eternity_

 _he wonders if he'll land with thanos and the chitauri again he doesn't think he can survive thanos's displeasure this time around he would rather land at thanos's feet than keep falling_

 _maybe this is what he deserves for being a parent-slayer three times over he killed his birth father when he destroyed laufey with gungnir he killed his adoptive mother when he told the kursed where to find frigga he killed his adoptive father when he weakened odin with his spell_

 _maybe this is the punishment he deserves but he cannot stand it he cannot survive it_

 _he tries to find his knife but he cannot feel he cannot see he doesn't know where it is he cannot find it_

 _maybe the wound will be enough to kill him even if he cannot feel it doing its work maybe he will die from blood loss that he cannot feel maybe that will bring an end to this endless fall_

 _maybe he will never die and he will just keep falling forever_

 _maybe-_

Light bursts in front of his eyes, and Loki only has a second to realize that he's somehow free from the Void when he crashes to the ground.

He spends about a day curled on the ground, gasping for air and trembling like mad and reacclimating himself to sensation. A few hours pass before he remembers to take the knife out of his side and direct his seidr to heal the wound. The pain fades as the wound closes. When even the last hint of an ache dissipates, Loki digs his nails into his palm to remind himself that he can still feel.

On the second day, Loki shakily gets to his feet and starts exploring the place where he's landed. It seems to mostly be some sort of intergalactic trash heap, but there is a city in the middle. Loki landed at the very edge of the city, in what appears to be something of a no-man's-land between the two areas. The trash heap looks entirely unappealing, so Loki glamours himself and slips into the city.

This place, he learns, is called Sakaar, and it is not unused to new arrivals falling out of the sky. It seems to be a sort of haven for lost souls. Loki wonders why he couldn't have fallen here the first time he tumbled through the Void. It's not a utopia, but anything would have been better than Thanos. Loki would have gladly fought in the gladiatorial games that seem to be the main form of entertainment here if it meant he would be away from the Chitauri.

He finds out more about Sakaar as he wanders. There are scavengers that live in the trash heap, and some people called scrappers go out to find possible gladiators who land out there. Other people live in the city. There are varying classes of people, but no one seems too poor. It's a mess, but everyone seems to have enough to survive.

In the middle of the city is a building that towers over everything else. Loki finds out that it's the home of the Grandmaster, the ruler of Sakaar. On the third day, Loki turns himself invisible with a hint of seidr and decides to take a look inside.

The building is somewhat of a mess, like the rest of the city, but it's more organized and elegant than everything else. The Grandmaster, he's heard, is something of a hedonist, and his home certainly confirms that. Judging by his possessions, he likes things that are pretty, entertaining, and fun. Loki can make himself all three.

"Well," a voice behind him says, "aren't you cute."

It's a man wearing golden robes and blue metallic eyeliner. Loki looks around, trying to figure out who he's talking to, but he doesn't see anyone else there. He checks to make sure that his spell is still in place, but it seems as strong as ever.

There's a slight tug on his seidr, and the spell unravels like a badly-woven tapestry. "Ooh, even cuter without the magic hiding you," the man says. "And, ah, who are you?"

"Who are you?" Loki counters warily.

The man blinks a few times. "You don't know who I am?"

"Should I?"

The man laughs. "Wow. This is a surprise. I'm, ah, I'm the Grandmaster."

Loki rapidly reevaluates every plan he's made for Sakaar. "I should have known," he says, trying to make his voice sound as sultry as possible. "You're even more impressive than I imagined."

The Grandmaster looks a little amused and a little flattered. "Really?"

Loki languidly looks the Grandmaster up and down. "Really."

"Well." The Grandmaster adjusts his collar, seeming flustered. His eyes flick down Loki's body, then back up. "And who are you?"

"My name is Loki." There's no need to say where he comes from, not now that it's lost to Hela. The thought hurts more than Loki would have expected.

"Loki," the Grandmaster repeats, letting the name sit on his tongue. "And what are you doing here, Loki?"

"I came to admire you, of course," Loki replies without missing a beat. "I had to see if you were as incredible as everyone says. Let me tell you, Grandmaster, I have never heard a story that properly lives up to your wondrousness."

"You're a pretty little flatterer, aren't you?"

"I don't flatter," Loki lies shamelessly. "I only speak the truth."

"Well, Loki, would you like to stay a while?" the Grandmaster asks. "To see a little more of how real life compares to the stories?"

"Grandmaster," Loki replies, smiling, "I can think of nothing I would want more."

* * *

Climbing the ranks of the Grandmaster's court is easy enough. Loki quickly learns how to dress to catch his attention, which is surprisingly close to what he normally wears. He also spreads a few rumors about some of the other top members of the court, and within days, he's become the Grandmaster's new favorite.

Keeping the position of the Grandmaster's favorite requires that they have sex, of course, but Loki doesn't mind. He likes sex, and he's never cared much about the gender of the person he's having sex with. And the Grandmaster is very old and very experienced, which leads to very… interesting encounters. The Grandmaster is able to do things Loki didn't think were _possible_ , so at the very least, this is an educational experience.

It's a comfortable life as well. Loki is given a large suite in the Grandmaster's house, only a few doors down from the Grandmaster's own room. He spends the night with the Grandmaster more often than not, but on the few nights that he doesn't, he has a comfortable room to go back to. He's given anything he could possibly want, and all he has to do for it is have some sex, be enchanting around the Grandmaster, and occasionally show off with his seidr when the Grandmaster wants it for entertainment.

It's the perfect environment to forget about things he doesn't want to think about, and Loki uses that to his advantage as he tries very hard to forget about the fact that his father just died, his brother probably did as well, and his heretofore-unknown sister has probably destroyed his homeland by now. If he lets himself dwell on it, he's worried he'll start free-falling in guilt again. If he keeps moving and never slows down enough to look behind him, he won't have to worry. Thor, he's certain, would probably have something to say about that, but Hela's probably killed Thor by now, and Loki's not going to think about it.

Loki drowns himself in alcohol, fun, and sex. If he doesn't spend the night with the Grandmaster, he stays out instead of going back to his too-quiet suite to sleep. He spends all of his time doing things, either watching the gladiatorial fights or playing games with the other courtiers or having sex with the Grandmaster or drinking until everything goes pleasantly numb. He never stops, and he never looks back.

And then, of course, the dreams start.

Loki's nightmares have always been quiet. He supposes he has that, at least, to be thankful for. When he startles into awareness in the Grandmaster's bed, there's no external sign of the panic his dreams cause. The Grandmaster doesn't wake. Loki is able to wrestle his breathing into steadiness and banish the images from his dream in peace.

The dreams are full of Hela destroying Asgard and Frigga dying and Thor falling into the Void or letting Loki fall in turn. Thanos is a common figure, as is Odin. The worst ones are the dreams of falling, of tumbling through the endless Void once again.

Loki starts sleeping less. The Grandmaster notes the bags under his eyes, brushing a finger along them. "If you're having trouble sleeping, I could try to tire you out some more," he suggests coyly, and Loki offers an equally coy, "I think that would help me ever so much," in response.

The dreams don't go away fully, but Loki finds ways to chase them off. He drinks, he lets the Grandmaster do whatever he wants with him, he never stops moving. He starts spending time with a woman who calls herself Scrapper 142, one of the only people on Sakaar who can keep up with his drinking when Loki really goes at it. In fact, _he's_ the one who can't keep up when _she_ really goes at it. The Grandmaster laughs when, one night, she has to dump him back in his suite, wine-soaked and bleary.

It doesn't keep the dreams away, just makes it harder to wake from them. Loki doesn't push himself to that level of excess again.

Time passes. Almost before Loki knows it, it's been a month since he arrived on Sakaar. There's no way to reach the Nine Realms, but Loki imagines that, by this point, Hela has to have destroyed Asgard. A part of him wonders if perhaps she hasn't, because he can't help but think he would _know_ if she had, but he dismisses that as wishful thinking. The Asgard he knew is gone.

It's not like he ever could have gone back anyway, not after Thor revealed his deception. No, he'll have to stay on Sakaar.

It's alright. There are worse places to be.

* * *

Loki wakes one night with a shuddering gasp, his entire body trembling. The Grandmaster is asleep beside him in the bed, and Loki is very careful not to wake him as he slips out from under the covers, pulling a robe over his body and padding over to the Grandmaster's private balcony.

He steps out and grabs the railing, gripping it tightly. He's not afraid of heights, but he likes having the sensation of touching something. Having sensation, any sort of sensation, helps remind him he's free of the Void. The slight breeze that plays with his hair, the touch of metal under his hands, the coolness of the floor below his feet… He wouldn't feel any of those if he were still in the Void.

"Bad dream?" a voice asks, and Loki turns around to see the Grandmaster, still naked, step out onto the balcony next to him.

"Mmm," Loki hums noncommittally. "Do you dream?"

"I do," the Grandmaster replies. "Pretty bad ones, sometimes." He looks over at Loki. "What do you dream about?"

"Falling," Loki says without meaning to.

"Falling?" the Grandmaster repeats. "Huh. Most people I know are more scared of the landing part."

"In my dreams," Loki says, not quite sure why he's sharing this, "I fall and I fall and I never land." He tightens his grip on the railing. "People who fear landing have never felt an endless fall."

"And you have?" the Grandmaster asks.

The harsh laugh feels like it's tugged from his throat. "Twice."

"You must have landed at some point," the Grandmaster says logically.

"Did I? Nothing is supposed to survive in the Void, and I've survived it twice." Loki looks out over the railing. A fall from this height wouldn't be endless. He's not even sure it would be enough to kill him, if that was what he wanted. He would fall, and then he would land.

A fall from this height is nothing to be afraid of.

"Hey," the Grandmaster says, putting a hand on his back. "Look at me."

Loki does as he's told. The Grandmaster still looks soft from sleep, his hair fluffier than usual and his face free from makeup. He looks both older and younger than usual, not that Loki has any idea how old he actually is.

"You're not falling," the Grandmaster says. "You landed. You're here on Sakaar, with me. And let me tell you, I'm pretty powerful, so I think I'd know if you weren't real."

"Not if you're not real," Loki says, his voice hoarse.

The Grandmaster laughs. "You think you could imagine someone as amazing as me?"

Loki doesn't think there's much of a limit to what he could imagine, but he has to be careful about what he says to the Grandmaster. Assuming this is is real. Assuming everything since he let go of Gungir all those years (was it really only six? surely it had to be more) ago hasn't been the hallucinations of a broken mind.

"Hey," the Grandmaster says again. He reaches out and tucks a finger under Loki's chin, lifting his face until their eyes meet. "You're not falling. I won't let you fall."

Loki will probably regret showing this vulnerability in the morning. He knows how easy it is to fall from the Grandmaster's favor - he's pushed a few people out of the way - and he should be being more careful to keep himself from losing favor in the same way. He shouldn't give anyone anything to use against him. He needs to be pretty, entertaining, and fun. Nothing else. His nightmares aren't pretty, entertaining, or fun. He shouldn't be sharing them with the Grandmaster.

And yet, to his surprise, this seems to have actually helped.

"I'm not falling," Loki says quietly.

"You're not," the Grandmaster agrees. He takes Loki's hand. "Come on, let's go back to bed. It's cold out here."

Loki allows himself to be led back into the room. The Grandmaster pulls him down onto the bed and spoons against his side, one arm draped over Loki's torso. The weight of it is warm and heavy.

There is no warmth or weight in the Void. He is not in the Void.

Loki closes his eyes and drifts back into sleep. He's not falling. The Grandmaster will not let him fall. He doubts that protection will last very long, but it's a comfort for as long as it does.

He is not falling. He will not fall.

* * *

The next day, when Loki sees Thor glide in, cuffed in a chair, he has the feeling that he's going to fall a lot more before this is all over.


End file.
